A Period Of Adjustment
by Jayneysuk
Summary: John Bates has been released from prison but that is only the start of it. Two weeks on and he's finding it harder than he imagined. This is a little angsty take on his homecoming.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Period Of Adjustment**  
**Rating: T (to be on the safe side)**  
**Pairing: John and Anna Bates**  
**Spoilers: This takes place post the Christmas Special so up to and including that is fair game.**  
**Summary: His release was only the start of it.**  
**Disclaimer: The characters belong to Julian fellowes. I merely play for no financial gain and return them relatively unscathed.**  
**Authors Notes: Never one to write too much fluff I decided Bates' homecoming might not be all fluffy bunnies and reunion sex.

**A Period Of Adjustment**

**Part One**

Clouds had littered the sky all day, threatening a light splattering of rain but had finally come to nothing. As day turned into night the clouds had dissipated leaving a clear sky in their wake and a beautiful unhindered view of the stars. It was almost a perfect Spring night.

John Bates took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh Yorkshire air as he crunched across the gravel towards the rolling green lawn.

"Go on girl," he urged, lightly tapping the Labrador with his hand.

She briefly turned her head in acknowledgement before she took off across the lawn.

Turning, John glanced back at the house, marvelling, as he did every night, at how imposing it must seem to strangers but for him it was the closest thing he had ever had to a home. He had not realised how much he had missed it in the intervening months, caught up in his own misery and despair. Seeing it for the first time convinced him that he was really free. Even in darkness he could make out the grandeur and the craftsmanship, each window hiding a story, a secret behind each door. During the day he allowed himself to get caught up in the hustle and bustle that came with a big house but at night the house had a stillness about it, a calm which he allowed to wash over him, restoring the balance of his soul.

The family had retired for the night, and their work done for the day the staff had followed soon after, or at least most of them had. John still had one last thing to do. He turned back to his charge, his eyes finding the pale yellow dog in the distance and whistled once.

Isis ran full pelt across the lawn, rounding the tree and heading back into the darkness, her boundless energy in stark contrast to the lethargy of the house and of the man who stood beneath the tree. There were many who would say that walking the masters dog was beneath a man of his position but he enjoyed being outside at the end of the day. It was a moment of solitude, a moment of freedom, and there had been little of that in the past few months. Alone, no one watched over him, and he could allow himself to be afraid, to be sad and to be happy without someone asking if he was alright, or a concerned look being shot in his direction. Not that he didn't appreciate them all, he just didn't deserve it and sometimes it became a little overwhelming.

His lips quirked up in a smile as he finally heard footsteps on the gravel. The gentle crunch was unmistakable and there was no need for him to look to know who it was. "You shouldn't be out here," he called into the night. There was no annoyance in his tone, merely mild amusement that she remained so predictable.

"I was wondering if you were planning to stay out here all night," Anna said with a hint of concern. She had waited at the top of the first flight of stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees as she silently counted the minutes since he left the house. The urge to run after him had been strong but she was perceptive enough to see that after a few minutes walking he was almost the man she fell in love with. Almost.

John felt his wife's presence beside him as her arm gently brushed his and they stood side by side, staring into the night. "Summer's coming."

"Mr Bates . . . John," she corrected, still not used to the familiarity.

"Anna," he whispered, mild frustration in his tone. "It's cold out." What he really meant but seemed unable to articulate in his present state was that he didn't want to have a difficult conversation, not yet and not when the night seemed almost perfect. He felt the absence of her arm almost immediately and then her hand on his arm.

"I wish you could talk to me. I knew there would be a period of adjustment, but this . . ." she trailed off, unwilling to pick a fight. It had been two weeks since he had been released and to her it felt like part of him had never returned. Every meal they sat side by side at the table as they always had, sharing antidotes of their day, but his laughter was forced, his attention wavering, and every night his lips brushed her cheek before they returned to their own and very separate rooms. It was becoming a pattern and although she didn't want to be angry at him, deep down it broke her heart.

John Bates turned to look at his wife, his expression one of incredible sadness. "I'm sorry I am a disappointment."

"No," she said emphatically, squeezing his upper arm. "No, you are not a disappointment. Not to me, not to any of us. I will not have you taking this all upon yourself."

"I need a little time." It had become his mantra to the point that he was almost starting to believe it.

"And I am more than willing to give it to you. But I love you, I have spent a year longing for you."

His lips tweaked upwards, wondering how one so young could be so free with words, so open with emotions when he could not. Then he was older, more cynical, more damaged. Quietly, he reached out and grasped her small delicate hand in his. "I love you too."

He heard the silent stamp of her boot as she contemplated her next remark, torn, he knew between demands and platitudes.

There was another flash of yellow fur and the dog landed at his feet. Crouching, carefully he rubbed her head. "Good girl."

"Me or the dog?" Anna asked mischievously, her head tilted to one side, realising that their time was coming to an end and she would not get her answers that night. Better that they parted happy than with sadness.

John shook his head. "Definitely her." Sometimes it was easier than it should be but then the self imposed boundaries came to the fore and he retreated back into himself. "Isis is ready for bed. You should get some rest too." He rose to his feet and stretched his back.

Anna's eyes took on a dark glint in the moonlight, born of frustration, a different kind this time. "John," she said, her voice barely a whisper, her tone raspy.

John finally turned to glance down at her, taken aback but not completely surprised when her hand made its way around his neck and she tugged him towards her, pressing her lips firmly against his. His hand released hers and he clasped her to him, deepening the kiss. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to take her to their marital bed but he knew he couldn't, not yet but still held the hope that one day he would be able to. Gently he put distance between them, the kisses reducing in their ardour, his hand reclaiming hers.

He knew he should explain, find the words, but he couldn't. Loving her was the sweetest thing in his life but there was an ugliness to him now, one he had to overcome, alone. "I'll walk you in."

"I'm not sure Mrs Hughes would like that," she replied, a smirk forming on her lips.

"Really?" he asked, suppressing a grin. "And why is that?"

"She doesn't like followers crossing the threshold."

John laughed, a slight crinkling at his lips but it failed to reach his eyes. "I think she'll make an exception in this case." He squeezed her hand as they walked, silence echoing between them as they entered the courtyard and then the house.

Finally she spoke, her words quiet and assured and she released his hand. "You may not be ready Mr Bates. You may think me too fragile, but know this I love you, and when you are ready to talk I am here. I won't run and it won't change my feeling towards you. However, whenever, whatever," she said, giving him the brightest of smiles. "Goodnight, my darling."

"Goodnight, Anna." He watched her as she headed up the stairs, turning every few steps to look at him, a faint blush crossing her cheeks as he continued to stare after her. When she finally disappeared from view he let out a low chuckle, reminded, as if he needed to be, why he loved her so much.

John climbed the stairs to the first floor, opening the door to allow the dog to claim her basket before he climbed the remaining flight of stairs to the attic. His eyes briefly drifted to the connecting door that separated the male and female corridors. As much as he told himself it was for the best it didn't make it any easier knowing she was asleep just doors away. He let out a deep sigh as he closed his bedroom door and began to undress for bed.

Loving Anna and the possibility of having her to come home to was probably the only thing that had gotten him through prison. Knowing that he may never get to hold her properly in his arms again, that there would never be a dozen little Anna's for him to indulge had nearly broken him. He had clung instead to the one night they had shared as husband and wife until he was no longer sure what was reality and what was a dream. His release should have brought joy, brought him running into her arms. It hadn't. Instead he had scars, deeper more painful ones than the loss of his limb or memories of war. He needed a period of adjustment, a need to feel human and worthy before he could take her in his arms again. But scars were easy to cover up, not so easy to heal.

Laying his clothes neatly over the chair, he made his way to the bed. A smile tweaked at his lips as he caught sight of the small frame on the table. She looked so beautiful, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her smile radiating across her face. He allowed his fingers to delicately trace her features, wondering how long he could survive on stolen moments and late night kisses when she was all he wanted. Placing the frame back he pulled the woollen blanket over him and settled down. Sleep would either be evasive as on so many other nights or he would drift off immediately, his dreams always of her, his pain always so much worse on waking.


	2. Chapter 2

These are two little scenes that were screaming at me to be written. Thank you for the feedback and questions. Hopefully I will answer these in the next few chapters.

**Part Two**

John placed his cane over his left arm as he picked up the brush and began to remove the lint from his Lordship's shirt. It was an intimate gesture but one that for neither of them felt awkward or uncomfortable. The two men had known each other for twenty years, fighting side by side in war and bearing witness to the worst kind of horror, unable to share it with anyone but each other. Ten years later and they had been reunited as servant and master, a shared history making them unusual friends, another war and personal tragedy leading to a bond of trust and loyalty that surpassed even that of comrades. There was little they had not shared during the South African war and possibly even less since his employer had become his champion. John continued to brush, his mind dwelling on things he hadn't said or done. Several times he had almost expressed his gratitude, the words faltering on his tongue, but the Earl had brushed him away with his hand and a shake of his head. His pledge to himself was to show his thanks in deeds, if not words, taking as long as he needed to return the faith the man had in him.

John turned back to the table, returning the brush and picking up the tiny gold pins.

"So are you settling back in alright," Robert asked as casually as he could muster. In the two weeks since Bates had returned he had tried numerous times to enquiry after his former Batman's health. Each time one or other of them had changed the subject. For all they shared this was the one period in their lives that had created a wall between them.

"Yes, thank you, M'Lord."

"And no one is giving you any difficulties?" Robert continued. It sounded like an innocent enough question but his Lordship was a shrewd man. While he had never waned in his belief of Bates' innocence, he knew of others who held different views. There was no room in his house for such opinions.

Bates wanted to laugh, the idea that his Lordship was asking whether the servants were playing nicely was perhaps the strangest conversation of his day.

"In many ways it is like I have never been away," John answered truthfully, his fingers lightly pressing the cuff links into place.

Lord Grantham turned to look at him. "And in others?"

"I selected the pin with the crest, it seemed appropriate when you were dining with the whole family, M'Lord," Bates offered by way of reply. He had always been a man of action rather than one who told tales, and he really had expected nothing less of some people. Mrs Hughes had welcomed him with a firm handshake and an open heart, Mrs Patmore with an almost constant supply of cakes and tea, and Thomas with his usual disdain. Others had barely acknowledged him at all, either not knowing what to say or too scared of a former convict. He could deal with that and the endless gossip in the hallways, as long as he had beautiful, dear sweet Anna.

"Bates, if you need to talk." He held his hand up in surrender as a look of embarrassment crossed the younger mans face. Extending one arm, he waited. "The cottage had been made ready for you, you know that, so when you are both ready."

"Thank you," John said sincerely as he slipped the jacket up and over his master's shoulders.

"Is Anna looking forward to the move?" He turned slightly to glance at Bates' face trying to gauge whether there were problems on the home front.

As much as he respected the Earl, as much as he owed him his life, and his future, there were certain areas of his life he didn't want to talk about with him. His marriage was one of them. Of course that never stopped his Lordship from asking. Honesty, unfortunately would lead to further questioning, avoidance to a visit from Mrs Hughes. Both were things he would rather avoid until another time. There was no middle ground. "We are both looking forward to it."

"Good. A new start and you can put the past behind you." Robert turned in the mirror. "Matthew and I have matters to discuss after dinner so don't worry about waiting up." Go spend some time with your wife he wanted to say but Bates had made it clear that subject was off limits.

"Very good, M'Lord. I'll walk Isis and then return to hang your clothes."

Robert gave a deep sigh. "You know one of the hall boys can do that."

"I do, but she and I enjoy our nightly constitutionals."

Lord Grantham nodded. He could understand a little of what his friend must feel, suddenly thrown back into a world in stark contrast to the routine driven life he had been living. The first few days upon release he had witnessed first hand how hard the adjustment was proving. First there had been sickness as his body became accustomed to a new diet, richer food and more of it, and if the rumours were to be believed a more than healthy dose of Mrs Patmore's baking. That in itself was enough to unsettle anyone's stomach. For the last few days there seemed to be a desperate need for solitude whenever the noise became too much. Everyone needed that sometimes. The dark circles evident on his pale skin were a clear indication that Bates wasn't sleeping either.

"Was there anything else, M'Lord?" Bates asked suddenly aware his master was lost in thought.

"No," he replied, breaking from his reverie. "Don't worry about coming up afterwards. I can manage for one night."

"If you are sure."

"I should go down. I don't want to keep the ladies waiting." Taking one last look in the mirror he walked purposefully towards the door.

"Very good." Bates watched him go before he moved around the dressing room, tidying up the discarded clothes and hanging a fresh suit for the morning.

~~~~~~

The servants hall was almost empty when he made his way downstairs half an hour later, the footmen and maids were upstairs serving dinner, the kitchen staff adding the finishing touches to the main course. Bates let out a sigh of relief and settled himself at the table, reaching for the newspaper casually discarded. He began to read, his mind drifting thoughtfully as he saw each story through new eyes, with less trust and more cynicism.

"Slacking off, Mr Bates?" she asked with a smile in her voice, a note of teasing she reserved just for him.

He looked up and found her leaning on the door frame, a mischievous smile on her face. "I'm taking my lead from others. Are you going to tell on me?"

Anna slid onto the chair beside him, her thigh purposefully pushed against his, her body turned to face him. "Maybe. But right now I have something to tell you."

The paper was once again discarded as he waited for her to speak.

"Lady Mary is pregnant," she whispered, the excitement evident in her voice. "There is going to be a baby in the house."

Her smile was infectious, he had to admit as his own lips quirked upwards. A baby was cause for celebration, an heir to carry on the family tradition, and a final sign that tragedy was behind them, he hoped. It would bring with it change, but this time for the better. Her smile faded and he knew instinctively what she was thinking and he desperately wished that he could make her smile again. His hand reached for hers bringing it to his lips. "Our time will come," he said gently.

She nodded but the shine had gone from her eyes and she refused to look at him.

Lightly he lifted her chin with their joined hands, ensuring she was looking at him before he spoke. "For a long time I didn't think we would ever be together again. The idea of a future was something for others but now I have hope that we have one, that we will grow into old age with our children to take care of us." He smiled mildly. "That's hoping they are daughters."

"One of each," she stated determinedly, studying his face for sincerity or honesty, he wasn't sure.

"Two of each," he countered, lowering their hands.

Anna shook her head, grinning once again. "Mr Bates."

Noise drifted down the corridor as the maids began to return from upstairs and he gripped her hand tighter. "I mean it, Anna, our time will come." He did believe it, she made him believe it. "Will you slip out again tonight?" John couldn't help himself. He wanted to be alone with her in the night. It was as much as he could allow himself.

"Yes." She wanted so much more, to drift to sleep in his arms, to wake in his embrace, to start on the future they talked about so often, but he had asked her to walk with him. It was a sign, the first sign that he was starting to let her in. The rest would surely follow in time.

The giggling that had preceded their arrival drifted through the door as the maids appeared.

John released her hand, turning back to his paper, mindful of propriety even in marriage. Her hand dropped on his thigh, resting there as she joined in with the others.

~~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Still not sure about this chapter but it's been sat on my hard drive for days while I've been sick and I can't do anymore with it. Part Four will be up this weekend. **

**Disclaimers in part one.**

**Part Three**

His cane echoed along the corridor, rhythmically tapping the tile floor as John chased the yellow Labrador from the kitchen. "If you spend all your time eating scraps from Mrs Patmore you are never going to catch that damn cat."

The dog seemed to grumble something in response.

**"**Just don't blame me when Mrs Hughes bans you from the kitchen."

**"**I tried, but she gave me those puppy dog eyes and I relented," Mrs Hughes admitted candidly, appearing in the servants hall doorway.

**"**She eats better than we do," John said, giving the housekeeper a small smile.

**"**That she does." She bent and brushed her hand over the soft yellow fur. "I'm going up now, Mr Bates, can I trust you to lock up?"

"I won't be long myself. I'll let Isis have her run and then call it a night." John buttoned up his coat. "Is Mr Carson still in the drawing room?"

She nodded. "His Lordship and Mr Crawley are still deep in conversation." She could only imagine what that was about but she wished they would hurry up. Once or twice a week when there was leftover wine the two of them would sit in his parlour sharing a glass or two and discussing the day. Tonight was supposed to have been their time. Instead she had sat alone mending her slip by the low light and had finally decided to call it a night. Her tone softened as she smiled up at him, "Try not to keep Anna out too long. There's still a Spring chill in the air."

"It's hard to get Anna to do anything she doesn't want to do," he retorted gently. The mere fact that she was waiting for him when he was released proved that point.

"Very true. Good night." She gave him a wide smile and took a step towards the stairs, turning back to watch as he made his way towards his wife. Elsie knew what the maids thought of her and if anything it was a reflection of how good she was at her job, but it wasn't who she was. Beneath her stern façade she had a big heart and the two people at the end of the hallway tugged at it frequently. Seeing them in a moment of tenderness restored her faith that they would be alright.

Anna was waiting at the back door for him, her dark woollen coat wrapped tightly around her, obviously lost in thought.

John approached as quietly as he could but Isis reached her first, jumping up and she started. "Sorry, I got caught up," he offered by way of apology.

"It's fine." She nuzzled the dogs nose as she opened the door. "Ready"

He nodded mutely as the dog darted between them and ran full pelt through the yard towards the rolling lawn.

They didn't say a word as he instinctively took her hand in his and started to walk through the courtyard. As they turned the corner of the building and made their way through the hedges to the front of the house he glanced down at her. "I've been warned not to keep you out too long."**  
****  
**Anna turned to look up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I'm a big girl."

**"**That was pretty much what I told her."

They lapsed into companionable silence as they crossed the driveway to stand under their tree. Darkness eclipsed the sky as they chatted quietly, mostly about inconsequential things, sometimes drifting to gossip about the household.

**"**Did you know that they still expect women to wear corsets when they're pregnant?" Anna asked incredulously, her free hand drifting out from her taut stomach. "Because when your belly is out here, you really want to be laced in."

**"**Surprisingly I did not," he offered amused. "Although I'd imagine no one will be telling Lady Mary what to do during this pregnancy."

Anna glanced down at their hands, her thoughts drifting once more to the idea of a baby, their baby. As much as he promised their time would come she still wasn't convinced. If anything she was a little jealous of Lady Mary, probably for the first time in her life, and she didn't like herself for it. It was just that she had become pregnant so easily, had enjoyed a happy engagement and the first few months of her marriage had been perfect. It was everything Anna hadn't had.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, her emotions clearly flickering across her features. He hated that it was all his fault but she would have none of his apologies which made it all the more important that he made it up to her. "You could move into the cottage if you wanted to," he suggested glancing down at their entwined hands. "It's ours to do as we wish."

"We'll move in when you're ready." she stated firmly. "Together."

He glanced off into the distance, his hand clinging to hers tightly. He loved her so much that it physically hurt. Every visit she had made to the prison he had told her to go find a better man, to live life to the full but she had refused. A part of him had felt relief, even joy that she wouldn't walk away but now he felt guilty because he couldn't give her what she deserved.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I would understand if you wanted to walk away." He almost held his breath as the words left his mouth.

Anna turned sharply. "Don't be such a silly beggar. I love you."

"Some people will still wonder if I'm guilty. And if they find out about my past then it will be ten times worse. I don't want you to get upset when you hear gossip about me, is all."

"And not being together will make that so much better?" she spat bitterly.

"It will spare you by association," he offered gently.

"It would make me a lesser woman. They can say what they like, think what they wish but the people that know you, people that love you know the truth. And that's all that really matters."

"And what are people saying?" he asked catching a look of something in her eyes, a catch in her voice.

Anna looked away realising she had revealed too much. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me." He couldn't bear the idea that someone had said something unkind about her, had cast aspersions about the two of them, but the guilty look on her face told him it was more than that. "Anna?"

She took a fortifying breath. "It's just people being unkind."

Gently he cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him, his fingers gently stroking her soft skin.

"They think you married me to prevent me saying anything in court about what I knew. That now you're regretting marrying me," she trailed off, not wanting to add to his worries.

"But you know that's not true?" he half asked half stated, because he hoped she did. Marrying her was the best thing he had ever done and probably the most selfish.

"Of course. . ."

"But." He held her gaze, not wanting her to hide anything from him.

**"**There is no but," Anna said, forcing a smile.

John allowed his mind to wander, to consider the worst things people could say about him, about them. Then it hit him and he hated himself. "Was it people in the village, or someone closer to home that reflected casually on the fact we don't share a house, or even a bed." His free hand balled into a fist as he considered the most likely harbinger of that fact.

The look on her face told him he'd hit the nail on the head. "Anna!"

"If this is because you don't want to take me to bed, because I did something wrong before, then it doesn't matter, all I want is to wake up beside you."

As the anger dissipated he felt the first tear prick at his eyes and he had to turn away, allowing himself a moment to compose himself. There were times when it almost became too much to deal with but he had never given up. Seeing the pain in her eyes though was almost enough to send him over the edge. Taking her to bed had been all he thought about in prison, the memory of her leaning over him perhaps the sweetest he had, and he had laid awake at night planning their homecoming. It had all seemed so straightforward until he found out he was being released then reality had set in. Anna, in her innocence, had inadvertently touched on one of the things that frightened him. After everything he had put her through, their first night had to be perfect but prison had stripped him of his confidence, insecurity demanding that they sleep in separate beds. It was a small thing but because he wanted to be sure of his own mind, his sanity, he had forgotten how little matters became big things.

"Why don't we spend our afternoon off at the cottage?" she suggested quietly breaking into his thoughts. "We can take some lunch with us and just spend the afternoon in the garden or mending in the sitting room."

Bates turned back to look at her, to see if there was a lack of sincerity in her face, but she was wearing as selfless an expression as he had ever seen her wear. "Would you like that?" It could be just what they needed, he considered, an afternoon alone in their new home where he could begin to show her the husband he wanted to be.

She nodded and he realised she was becoming increasingly hard to refuse anything. "I'll speak to his Lordship and see when he can spare me then we can talk to Mrs Hughes."

Anna reached up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She dropped back onto her heels. "Now it's bleeding cold, can we get the damn dog to do her thing, and get back indoors."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the kind comments so far. This chapter got a little out of hand. I briefly debated writing the second half again and posting a fuller version as an M rating but let me know if you think it needs it.**

**I have tried several times to put the page breaks in but didn't realise they weren't showing up. Hope it works this time.**

**Part Four**

**1**

Mrs Patmore placed the handful of new potatoes in the small basket and closed the lid. She pursed her lips, seemingly considering something, and crossed the kitchen to the stove, opening the door and lifting out the baking sheet. Lifting the lid she placed the freshly baked goods on top of the rest of the food. "So you'll have a little pie, some potatoes and some of the tarts I made this morning. That should keep you both going till supper. Will you have something to cook on?"

Bates thanked her for the second time and picked up the basket. "Yes, everything is already in place.

"_Then why the hell aren't you living there? _she thought but for once decided to keep her thoughts to herself. She really couldn't fathom why they were still sleeping in separate beds when they had a perfectly good cottage down the lane. It wasn't that he no longer loved Anna, because clearly every time he looked at his wife there was overwhelming devotion in his eyes. Anna, for her part, was desperately in love with her husband, willing to sacrifice everything for him, endure everything life threw at her. The only person who had deemed to question the current living arrangements had received short shrift not only from Anna but from Mr Carson too. She supposed rightly it was none of their business but it didn't stop them wondering. In some ways it was nice that they were all still living together under the same roof, it was almost like the world hadn't changed, almost. "I won't be able to do this when you move out," she said mock-sternly.

"Well, maybe we'll live on love alone," John mused, a wry smile crossing his lips at her sudden fluster. The basket, laden with lunch, resting over his good arm, he headed towards the servants hall in search of his wife. He found her, dressed in her good skirt and coat, standing in the doorway to the housekeepers sitting room. For a moment he was transported back to his wedding day and a smile quirked at his lips at the memory of her in the same outfit promising to love him whatever. They had surely endured whatever so far.

"Ah, Mr Bates," came a familiar Scottish brogue. "We were just wondering where you had disappeared to."

"Picking up lunch." He indicated the wicker basket with his free hand.

Elsie Hughes rose to her feet, making her way to join them in the hallway. She glanced between the two of them, noting the slight smiles and endearing glances they shared and inwardly sighed happily. "Well don't worry about rushing back. I can take care of the young ladies and Thomas can help his Lordship for one night." Although Thomas' idea of helping usually came with conditions and a sanctimonious smile, but as much as it pained her she would accept it this once, and if he was particularly cocky she could always leave him to Mr Carson. Charles was more than aware of what was at stake.

Anna smiled graciously, his eyes drifting warmly to her husband, "I'm sure that won't be necessary. We're just going to have lunch and potter in our garden."

"The offer is there," Elsie insisted, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze the younger woman's arm.

**"**Thank you, Mrs Hughes," John said, taking a step back from the women, indicating that it was time to go.

Anna reached out and removed the basket from his arm, before taking his free hand in her own, interlacing their fingers as they headed down the corridor to the back door.

While they had separately inspected the quaint two bedroom cottage that was to be their home, they had not as yet toured it together. It would be their first time. She hoped that being alone would restore the ease with which they once communicated and possibly ignite the passion that had been lacking since his return. John prayed that spending quality time would allow them to escape the endless scrutiny they seemed to be under and for him to prove his worthiness to her. They both hoped it would be the first of many visits until they could take up permanent residence.

Spring had finally transformed into Summer over the previous few days, rain and looming clouds giving way to a cerulean sky. It was the perfect afternoon for being outside. They walked in silence for the first few minutes, not for want of things to say but because it felt comfortable, natural even to put distance between them as colleagues and their married life. Thomas and O'Brien were deep in conversation as they crossed the courtyard, their look of contempt earning them a wide smug smile from Anna. She squeezed John's hand more tightly and leaned lightly into his arm. Despite their bravado they each carried a certain amount of trepidation in what they were about to encounter. It was one thing to spend a night together in a guest room but another to be faced with the rest of their lives in their own home.

The small brick building came into view as they passed under the arch and rounded the corner to the small row of cottages. There was nothing particularly special about the outside of the house but to Anna it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Someone had painted the window frames and door since she had last been there, making it look cleaner and newer; the fresh cream woodwork offsetting the rust of the brick, the open gate welcoming them in. It looked sturdy and built with love and she hoped it was a symbol of their union.

John released her hand and pulled the key from his pocket. It turned easily in the lock and the door swung open revealing the small sitting room. He inwardly groaned as he turned to look at her, wondering fleetingly why everything had to be so difficult with them. His mother's words drifted into his consciousness - _The harder you work for it, the more it's worth having_- if that were true then she was really worth having.

"What?" she asked, her tone one of amusement as he continued to stare at her.

"Tradition dictates that I carry you over the threshold. I was just pondering how to make it happen," he offered with a rueful smile. "As much as I like the notion of flinging you over my shoulder and carting you in, I'm not sure my back is up to it."

She laughed and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the doorway with her. "Why don't we just take the step together."

Anna dropped his hand and walked towards the kitchen, her eyes adjusting quickly to the dimness of the sitting room. The small wooden table took up most of the kitchen and she placed the basket on top, slowly unpacking the contents. "Shall I make some tea." she asked, as the familiar clattering of his cane against tile followed her.

"That would be nice."

She opened a cupboard and lifted out a kettle, filling it with water and placing it on the range.

John loitered in the doorway, turning back to study the small sitting room. The few pieces of his mother's furniture that he had kept and brought to Yorkshire seemed to fit the room but his eyes were drawn to the small parcel on the side table. "Anna."

She appeared at his side instantly and he indicated the small brown bundle tied with ribbon.

"A gift?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.**  
****  
**He shrugged, overwhelmed once again by the generosity of the people whom he had been fortunate enough to welcome into their lives. "Open it then."

The brown paper discarded on the floor, her fingers brushed through the material, a smile forming at her lips as she contemplated what she could make, the note floating to the ground. Picking it up, her grin widened. "A house warming gift from Lady Mary and Lady Edith."

**"**Does this mean I am to spend my afternoon measuring Windows and pillows?" he asked, feeling genuinely content at the prospect.

The kettle whistled in the other room and she placed the note on the neatly folded cotton before heading back to make tea. "I'll start on lunch. Why don't you take it easy."

**"**I can help," he offered, making to follow her.

A hat and coat landed over the back of an armchair as her face peeked around the door frame. "This is our first meal in our first home, I should fulfil my wifely duty and cook."

John took another step towards her. "Come here," he instructed, his features revealing little, his free arm outstretched to receive her.

Anna moved towards him, coming to rest before him. "I'm here."

**"**Your first wifely duty, as you put it, is to make me happy," he said quietly, his lips quirking upwards into a smile as he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against his frame.

She shrieked as her hands pressed against his chest. "John."

His head dipped lower as his lips found hers in a fierce kiss. As her hands worked their way up and round his neck she relaxed, deepening the kiss, settling herself against him. For a moment everything else fell away, the stresses of the last year, his insecurities, all replaced instead by the comfort and safety of their love for each other. It lasted only a few minutes and even as they broke for air she felt the shift in him.

John let out a deep melancholy sigh as he released her and stepped back. As he held her, his tongue tangling with hers he had felt the stirrings of desire, knew that as his hand drifted lower, grasping the curve of her bottom that she could feel it too. His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to compose himself. When he opened them again she was walking away from him. He watched her path across the room but didn't know what to say.

**"**Sit," she threw over her shoulder, "I'll bring your tea." Anna allowed a satisfied smile to tweak at her lips. She had felt his need for her pressing against her stomach, felt his breathing becoming more erratic as she deepened the kiss. There was only so long he could fight his need, of that she was certain, but she'd wait, and enjoy the moments they had. It was something to look forward to in the dark moments that he held her at a distance, and through the long nights she slept alone.

John dropped into the armchair, stretching out his wounded leg, as he made himself comfortable. He needed a moment alone to think. His emotions were running a gauntlet through his mind and he found it hard to think straight when she was near him and he needed to think straight. The urge in that moment to take her by the hand and lead her upstairs had been overwhelming and that surprised him.

**"**We'll have lunch in about half an hour," she announced, leaning over him to place a cup on the side table.

He could do this, he told himself. They would have a nice lunch and take a walk around the garden. It would be fine. He inwardly groaned as his arm brushed against the curve of her breast as she leaned back across him and stood upright. The next few hours were going to be hell, he concluded.

2

Anna dropped onto the bed, bouncing up and down slightly as the mattress yielded to her weight. "It's so soft," she mumbled, grinning like a schoolgirl as she continued to bounce.

**"**Glad to see Mrs Hughes hasn't completely cured you of your inner child." He loved to see her act with carefree abandonment, to see the real Anna emerge from the confines of service. Except a free and wanton Anna wasn't exactly what he needed when his hormones were raging. His first mistake was agreeing to come to the cottage in the first place, his second he was realising was agreeing to come upstairs and look over the bedrooms.

**"**You should try it. You don't know what you're missing."

It was challenge, her eyes wide and daring him to join her. He eyed the bed, debating the predicament he now found himself in. To sit beside her was opening himself up to something else altogether and in such close proximity he knew she could overcome his resistance.

**"**Please," she begged, her head tilting to one side, and gazing up at him adoringly.

Reluctantly he hung his cane over the end of the bed and settled himself on the mattress, leaving a fair few inches between them. She bounced and he found himself moving up and down in the current of her movement. "I'm not sure I'm going to get much sleep," he commented dryly. "I can't remember ever sleeping on anything this soft."

Anna turned to grin at him. Her intentions for the bed had very little to do with sleep, although by the time she had finished with him of a night she figured he would be too exhausted not to sleep. "We could try it out for size."

**"**I wasn't planning on wasting my afternoon with you napping," he lamented.

**"**Does it matter what we do as long as we're together, John?" she asked, her voice soft and caressing.

She had him on that one, he had to concede. Slowly he leaned down and began to remove his shoes, before easing himself out of his jacket and tie. "Shall we?" he asked, when she was still watching him.

Anna rose to her feet and slipped out of her shoes and stockings before settling herself on the bed. They had never really discussed the finer points of sharing a bed but he gravitated to the side closest to the window, her to the door as they had on their wedding night.

He stretched out his arm and she nestled into him, her head on his chest, her hand languishing across his waist. John closed his eyes, willing the moment to memory. It had been so long that it was almost torture having her there. He hoped he had the willpower to just lie there and not allow his body to urge him further.

Anna gently walked her fingers up and along his ribcage, over his chest to massage the underside of his jaw. As her lips gently nipped his shoulder she heard him moan against her hair. Her tongue began to trace the line of his neck and he turned to capture her lips, groaning as her hand made its way into her hair, holding him firmly against her.

3

John rolled onto his back, no longer able to gaze into the eyes of the woman beside him. He had waited so long to make love to his dear sweet Anna, to hold her and lose himself in her. In the end he had waited too long.

"John?" she asked in a tone that could not hide her confusion. When he didn't not respond she rolled to her side, her hand snaking up across his chest to cup his head turning his face to look at her. "Did I . . . Was it something?"

He shook his head, his eyelids fluttering shut at the pain in her eyes. "No."

"I don't understand."

How could she, he wondered. How could his dear sweet Anna comprehend that his body had failed him. Of course if wanting something so badly it hurt made it perfect he would be on a winning streak. He opened his eyes to see her gazing at him in question. "I can't."

Her hand slipped from his cheek and he grabbed it, holding it against his chest, willing her to understand from the laboured breathing and the racing of his heart that he had wanted to. He rolled slowly, adjusting his position until they were nose to nose. "I want to, Anna, so very much."

Anna gave him a tentative smile, slowly grasping the situation but unsure what to say. Finally she settled for something simple. "Will you just hold me, John?"

**"**Of course," he whispered, clinging to her just a little tighter.

They lay, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined as the sun began its descent beyond the window. The afternoon was slowly turning to evening which meant their time together was coming to an end and a long night of service lay ahead of them.

Reluctantly, John bestowed a gentle kiss to her temple before gently removing himself from their entanglement. "We should think about heading back."

"Do we have to?" she asked, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Yes, my love." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll bring you some tea while you get dressed."


	5. Chapter 5

Apologies for the delay but I have been struggling for weeks to get this to come together. Two hours on a plane and my muse finally plays ball. Hope you like. There a few more chapters to follow but should be up this week. **  
**

**Part Five**

Dinner in the servants hall was always a lively affair with staff coming and going to attend to their work, others missing meal times altogether. On the rare occasion that everyone managed to make it, conversation was usually loud and covered a diverse range of subjects. This evening was no exception.  
**  
**John, as always, sat between Mrs Hughes and Anna, a seat he had taken when he had first joined the household, and one he had reclaimed when he had been released. A bowl of stew had been placed before him and his glass filled with water, a plate of bread was slowly making it's way up and down the table towards him. The familiarity of it was something he did not want to relinquish and what made it so easy to drift in and out of conversations, losing himself in his own thoughts.  
**  
**Thomas was complaining again, something about London, John deduced. Though why he would find a month in the big city so distasteful John would never fathom. The was a world of opportunity for a man like Thomas in the big city, opportunities that he would never find in a village. John, on the other hand, wasn't looking forward to being away from Anna for such a lengthy period so soon after his release. His Lordship had implied that she might travel with them but he wouldn't ask for such a favour, it wasn't in his nature. First of all he wasn't sure Mrs Hughes would forgive him for taking away her best maid for the Summer. Secondly, in London they would be expected to share a room, something which John wasn't sure he was ready for, at least not yet. With a few weeks to go the decision was up in the air so that left him with the prospect of four weeks alone with only her letters for company.

John drifted back into the conversation and heard Anna discussing lady Mary's pregnancy with one of the other maids. She sounded so excited, so enthused, that he had to turn away, focusing instead on the bowl before him. His stew was almost gone although he hadn't tasted a mouthful, a chunk of bread torn into pieces in his bowl. He looked up to find himself caught in the steely gaze of the butler, a frown reserved solely for him. John chanced a smile.  
**  
**The clang was loud, vibrating off the floor tiles. He recognised it at once, at least his ears did, his brain was processing it as something else. The room had fallen silent after one of Thomas' comments, the noise echoing through the hallway. John's whole body froze, his arms wrapped around him. Beside him Anna moved closer, her knee pressing against his, her gaze shifting to his face.

The Butler's face tensed, his hand moving towards Mrs Hughes as if in slow motion, intent on warning her of what was to come.

"Daisy," rang out through the corridor, "Clean it up."

His eyes fluttered shut. John wasn't sure what had triggered it. What, didn't really matter, the why was more important. He tried to even his breathing; the rest of the staff still unaware of what was happening.

Another clang then came Daisy's scream and the deafening clatter, and Mrs Patmore's raised voice. All familiar sounds, yet he could feel his heart racing, his palms sweaty. Another clang and he was in another place, the fear almost overwhelming, adrenaline pumping, and a desperate need to escape. His fork on the plate sounded deafeningly loud despite the commotion elsewhere but he couldn't sit there any long, food no longer foremost on his rose awkwardly to his feet, aware of every set of eyes trained on him. "Please excuse me.

I suddenly find I need some air."  
**  
**Beside him Mrs Hughes started, her eyes drawn to his face, her brow furrowing at what she saw there. She had been expecting it, anticipating his breakdown since Mr Carson had raised the subject, now that it was clearly upon them she hoped he would be able to come through it, hoped that they could help him through it.  
**  
**Anna moved to rise with him but he waved her away. Her eyes narrowed in frustration, her hand landing back on the solid wood table.  
**  
**"Finish your supper," he instructed gently, his eyes briefly catching hers before he pushed out his chair and stepped around it. He had to get out of there, had to be outside, had to be alone.

The walk from the servants hall to the courtyard seemed unending, his pace quickening with each step, heat rising throughout his body, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Flinging open the back door he practically ran into the courtyard, gasping lungfuls of fresh air as he came to a halt in the middle of the yard. The sudden rush made him light headed, his body suddenly weak as he half tumbled, half stumbled towards the bench, cane clattering to the floor. He'd thought he had it under control to the point that nobody would ever need to know or bear witness to his weakness. So far the anxiety attacks had only occurred at night when the house was silent and he was alone in his room. With the window open he could take in the air he needed while he counted the stars, drinking endless glasses of water until the bitter taste in his mouth dissipated. This attack was different and came on with a ferocity he hadn't experienced so far and however briefly he had been transported back to the small cell and metal bunk.  
**  
**In the weeks since his release no one had asked what his life had been like in prison, if they had he wasn't sure he would have shared much anyhow. Their imaginings were probably worse than the experience itself and for those who held a rosy perspective on punishment why burden them with the truth. Most of his colleagues probably assumed that his reluctance to be alone with Anna was because of some life altering event, but in reality it wasn't. In the twelve months he had been incarcerated there had been no beatings, the guards hadn't been overly brutal in their treatment of him and thankfully he had avoided the fights for control between the different factions of the population. Instead he had spent his time largely in self imposed solitude. Which was the heart of his problem. Apart from mealtimes, when he was ushered into the dining hall he had spent his time alone. Without his cane to lean on his leg had become stiff and almost painful to walk on but he still took a daily constitutional around the yard when he had the chance. Mostly he had sat in his cell, reading whatever books he could get his hands on and Anna's letters, sometimes two or three times in a row just to hear her voice in his head. Three stone walls and iron bars became his world. On the outside everyone seemed to judge him or needed explanations and he found himself justifying who he was. In prison people rarely bothered him and he began to enjoy the freedom to be himself without explaining to others. Despite Anna's faith that he would be found innocent he expected to spend the rest of his life living a solitary existence, adjusting to it was his way of coping.

The seasons passed quickly, intermingling into one, each day started cold and grey and ended colder and with shades of charcoal. Then the cell door would be shut with a clang every night, the key turning in the lock a reminder that he didn't have his freedom. Within minutes the anxiety attacks would start. If the noise didn't trigger them then the muttering of voices up and down the cell block did. Sometimes there would be screams or shouting, other times there would be the sound of singing. As much as he became used to it, he couldn't quite control his reaction to it. His emotions at breaking point, he would start to cry, tears often providing the cleansing he needed. Body completely drained, his soul destroyed, he would sleep.  
**  
**Lowering his head between his knees he began to control his breathing, slowing each breath, his eyes fixed on the cobbles until he was almost back to his equilibrium. It was easier outside, after so many months confinement had become his enemy. Every night as he retired to his room, he felt a sudden fear course through his body, a door he could lock himself the only thing preventing him from complete break down. He slept with a window open, bed positioned in the draft, worked with doors ajar or in the courtyard, the gentle breeze a daily reminder that he was alive. Claustrophobia was now his greatest fear.  
**  
**He heard footsteps moving towards him, heavy and even unlike Anna's gentle and light steps and he glanced up.  
**  
**"Mr Carson," he said, surprised at the presence of the last person he expected.  
**  
**He shrugged and waved him down when he tried to get up. "I brought you some tea, Mr Bates." He hovered over him, the delicate china cup and saucer seemingly strange in his large hand, silently staring down at the younger man.  
**  
**"Thank you." They were awkward in each others company, neither sure what to say or whether they wanted to say anything.  
**  
**Seconds turned into minutes until the Butler turned and headed back the way he had come, seemingly satisfied about something.  
**  
**John watched him go, finally sipping the tea as the cold evening air blew through his clothes. They had barely exchanged anything more than pleasantries but his gesture said more than words could.  
**  
**/  
**  
**Anna stood in the doorway watching him, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. He looked so small, so fragile, his head in his hands, his large bulky frame hunched over that her heart broke for him. All she wanted to do was take him somewhere where they could be alone and hold him. It was all she had wanted to do since his release. Taking a deep fortifying breath she crossed the courtyard, her footfalls echoing through the small space as she edged ever closer to him, prepared for him to send her away.

John knew she would come, knew that she wouldn't be able to resist seeking him out. While part of him had been anticipating her arrival with affection, the larger part of him was filled with dread. Looking up he caught sight of the anguish etched on her features and he wished he could spare her, wished that he could make her walk away from him and find happiness, but he had long ago realised that apart neither of them would be happy. He had to love her as the man he was and hope one day he could become the man she deserved.

"I came to get your tea cup," she offered by way of greeting, a shy smile on her lips.

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head to look her in the eyes. "Really?" he asked, his eyes betraying his amusement.

Anna shrugged, giving him a small grin. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Anna." He wanted to warn her to walk away, to leave before she could bear witness to the man he had become, but he was a weak man and as he gazed up at her his love for her was almost bewitching.

She hovered briefly, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she slid onto the bench beside him. "Are you going to tell me what happened? No, of course you're not. Will you let me help you? No."

"You're just having a whole conversation there on your own, aren't you," he commented, mildly bemused.

She sighed, part in frustration and part because he had responded. "John, I'm here."

"I know." He let out a deep sigh of his own. "I just had to get out of there."

Her tiny hand reached for his, barely covering it, relieved when he didn't snatch it away. "I think we all feel like that once in while," she commented dryly.

John laughed despite himself. "Most don't run out and cause such a scene."

Anna lowered her head, considering what he had just said. He had admitted that he ran, which was a new thing, albeit only out of a room. His admittance that things weren't right was a step in the right direction, she thought. It meant that he was finally opening up. Now if he could only tell her why he ran then maybe she could help him. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and caught him staring at the gate.

"You're thinking about running again," she stated equivocally. Her heart thumped a little quicker in her chest at the prospect. He had promised her he would never leave again, promised her once that he was there good and proper, but he had the look of a deer caught in headlamps.  
**  
**"No, it hasn't crossed my mind," John lied, knowing full well that in a different universe he would be long gone. It was only her, his dear sweet Anna that had kept him at Downton. If not for her, he would have headed to London, or Manchester, or anywhere where no one knew his history, where he could start again. But he had made a promise to God, and to himself that he would make it up to her and he had been trying. Staying where there were no secrets, dealing with his pain and facing her in the knowledge that he had caused her so much pain was the right way forward. He felt the sudden bitter taste in his mouth and had to grab the bench, concentrating on his breathing.  
**  
**Anna waited, watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye until he opened his eyes again. "I love you John but you have to be honest with me. No more lies, please," she pleaded, her hand tightly squeezing his.  
**  
**He turned his head to stare into the distance again, torn between walking away and actually facing her. What was it she always said - _you regret lying more than you regret telling the truth - _he hoped that was true. "Why did you really come out here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
**  
**It was a test she knew, a challenge to see whether she would live by her own words. "To check on you," she offered candidly. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."  
**  
**He nodded mutely, preparing what he wanted to say in his head.  
**  
**"John?"  
**  
**"You'll have to know some time," he said begrudgingly. "Before we move down to the cottage."  
**  
**"Know what?" she asked, her brain conjuring up a thousand and one scenarios, each graphically worse than the last.  
**  
**John turned slowly to face her, a lump forming in his throat at the look of compassion in her eyes. "I have been having anxiety attacks. I struggle to breath, I don't know whether I am going to be sick or pass out, or sometimes if I am going to die from the pain in my chest. I wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes two or three times."  
**  
**Her eyes widened and her grip on his hand tightened. "I wish you would let me be there."  
**  
**"I wish you were there too. But," he started, stressing the but and debating how truthful to be. "It's not pleasant and I don't want to scare you. The anxiety is consuming. I dread to think what I look like."

"Will it get better with time?" she asked quietly, trying to understand.

John smiled his first real smile at her response, turning her hand until they could entwine their fingers. She was never one to ask for more information than she needed, accepting what he gave her willingly and that was one of the reasons he loved her. He hoped more than anything that he would get better, that one day soon he could allow her to bear witness to every part of his life. His pride had prevented it thus far and with each little step they took forward he always seemed to send them tumbling back. There was only so far they could tumble back without it falling apart.

"Perhaps we could speak to Doctor Clarkson. He must have dealt with anxiety attacks when we were a convalescence home," she offered, forming a plan of her own.

"Maybe," he replied non-committally. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about getting help it was more that by accepting professional help he was saying he couldn't cope. So far he had been more than capable of doing his job. He couldn't bear the thought of that being taken away from him. In all probability after tonight's public display his Lordship would find out and the point would be mute; he would be forced to see the doctor and there would follow an uncomfortable conversation with his employer.

"Is the . . . I mean did the anxiety cause . . .," she trailed off, not really sure how to finish the sentence. They hadn't really talked about what happened in the cottage, avoiding the whole subject completely until it had become like a white elephant in the room.

It had been four days since the incident at the cottage and he had strategically avoided talking about it, to the point that for the previous few nights he had taken to walking Isis while everyone was still at dinner. It allowed him his solitude and meant that Anna was unable to join him. At breakfast she shot him tiny looks of confusion and he offered her small smiles in return, hoping that a busy household would leave her no time to question him further.

She was such a sweet innocent girl, so unaware of the world that he often had to remind himself to be gentle with her. "I've told you it wasn't anything you did." As much as he had wanted to make love to her in the cottage it had been too soon. Now he had this new found fear of intimacy to deal with.

"Will we ever be able to . . .?"

John glanced away and then turned to her with a smile. Honesty, faith, hope - it was all they had and what he had to cling too. "Yes."

Her lips formed a small smile, her eyes dancing lightly. "Well until then," she said, inching towards him, her eyes fluttering shut. "We'll just have to make the most of what we have."

Silently, she leaned up and softly brushed her lips across his cheek. When she pulled back and opened her eyes he was gazing at her, still smiling.

"Yes, we will," he agreed, gently tugging her back to him and pressing his lips to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six  
**  
Below stairs was almost silent, the young maids either working on the first floor or sitting outside enjoying the sunshine for a brief moment of respite. Anna, needing time to herself had chosen to work in the servants hall, her fingers deftly pinning and sewing new curtains for the cottage. The solitude was a relief if the truth be told, allowing her time to consider her conversation with John and the lack of resolution to their problems.

"Anna, are you alright?" Elsie asked softly, concern edging its way into her tone. She had been on her way to her sitting room when she had caught sight of the young woman, sat alone, looking a million miles away. It was only when she moved closer that she had noticed the red oozing wound on her hand, drops of blood staining her dress.

"Mrs Hughes?" Anna asked, surprised and confused at the interruption to her reverie.

"You're bleeding." She carefully took the young maids hand in her own, turning it over and applying her fingers firmly to the wound. "Whatever did you do?"

Anna glanced down at the blood staining her pale alabaster skin. "I didn't notice. I have no idea," she muttered, her cheeks turning almost ghostly in the face of blood.

"You were a million miles away. Come, we'll go to my sitting room and patch you up." Elsie smiled warmly, her forehead scrunching in consternation as she watched the myriad of emotions cross the maid's face.

"I don't want to be a bother. I'll just wash it under the tap."

That was the crunch of the problem. She didn't want to be a bother, which she wouldn't be. Elsie was there waiting to help, to listen; more than anything she wanted to be there for her. "Nonsense, you'll need a dressing. And it looks nasty." In her sitting room she closed the door and indicated a chair. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she replied, barely raising her head, eyes focusing on the well worn rug.

"You know you can talk to me Anna. About anything. Over the years these four walls have kept more secrets than I care to remember," Elsie offered wistfully. Ducking her head, she tried to regain eye contact.

Her smile failed to reach her eyes. "He's a private man, Mrs Hughes. I don't think he'd appreciate it." In fact John would probably have an anxiety attack at the mere thought of Anna sharing details about his episodes, she decided. If she could only get him to talk to someone, probably anyone but her as she was clearly unprepared to deal with his issues, then maybe she could talk to Mrs Hughes. Although their conversations would be about the cottage and babies and the life they were going to have.

Elsie knew all about private men, effectively sharing her life with one for the last fifteen years. Men like Mr Carson had been taught not to have emotions, to be strong and dependable and not to depend on anyone. Their first instinct was to make as much noise as possible when something was bothering them to mask the fact they weren't talking. Mr Bates was cut from the same cloth. "So don't talk about him, tell me what's worrying you."

Anna laughed nervously. "It's one and the same."

Elsie carefully wiped the long linear cut on Anna's hand, lightly patting it with fresh water and a tissue before covering it with a small gauze dressing. "I would never pry, Anna, I just worry . . ."

"I'm fine really." She flexed her hand gently. "Thank you."

"You'll probably need to dress it again before you go to bed," the housekeeper said softly, tidying away her small first aid kit.

"Yes, thank you for this, but I meant thank you for trying to help. I love him, Mrs Hughes, and I know he loves me. And if it takes a lifetime . . ." She shrugged. "Well I'm not going anywhere." Steadily Anna rose to her feet and made her way to the door. "A little part of me just wishes that we deserved to be happy," she said with a sad smile in parting.

Elsie sank down onto her desk, covering her eyes with her hand, deeply troubled. When she lifted her head she found him standing in her doorway, eyes watching her.

"Is everything alright, Mrs Hughes?" he asked quietly, stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him.

She shrugged, closing her eyes and fixing her gaze on the cracked tile in her floor. After what they had all been through, they deserved to be alright, all of them, but they weren't. "I want so much to see her happy," Elsie sighed, lifting her head so her eyes met his.

"I know." He knew who she was referring to without asking. He wanted Anna to be happy too, not least because maybe he would see the housekeeper smile once in a while too. Charles Carson was not a man to interfere or find himself drawn into other peoples problems but in the case of the valet and maid he couldn't avoid it. An atmosphere had descended over the dinner table and the young maid seemed permanently sad when she should be happy at her husband's return. The valet for his part held himself a little too stiffly, his jaw permanently jutted as he avoided the banter around the table. There was nothing Charles could do to fix it although he desperately wanted to.

There was also Mrs Hughes to contend with. Their nightly conversations were constantly turning to Anna and her plight. She was worried and it had taken every hold he had on her to stop her interfering. "You're doing all you can. We can't interfere, remember."

"Your rules," she grumbled, her Scottish inflection evident in her dismay.

"He needs to break or he will be haunted for the rest of his life," Charles offered by way of placation.

"Should he be here?" Her voice sounded a little frightened, she knew, but they had been down that road before.

"Yes."

The conviction with which he answered her, startled her.

"This is his home, Mrs Hughes. He is still the same loyal, hard working, and professional man he was before he left. Prison hasn't changed that, if anything it has heightened his sense of duty," he observed, moving across the room to stand barely inches away from her. It was as intimate as he would allow himself to get to her. "Without this job, this house, I'm not sure he could carry on."

Elsie leaned forward, her hands clasped in her lap, his proximity reassuring. "You're keeping an eye on him."

"As always." He kept an eye on all of them, some more than others, especially the ones that were straying from the path. The ones in need of help he shepherded to her.

"Last night proves it. He needs to see a doctor," she said vehemently.

"He will when it's the right time. His pain is like an addiction, he has to want to break it." He knew all about addiction. The woman sat before him, gazing up at him in silent acknowledgement of his words was his. They would for all eternity remain just friends, professional and at a distance with each other, but he loved her with every fibre of his being. "We just need to give him time and the space to deal with it."

"Um. Yes."

"I know that tone. What are you up to?" Charles asked warily, knowing how defiant she could be.

"Just agreeing with you, Mr Carson. I think I might head into the village this afternoon and run a few errands," she offered, her head tilted to one side as she considered something.

"It isn't your afternoon off," he grumbled, knowing that she was about to do something in spite of his warnings.

"I need to settle a few household accounts," she said, giving him a knowing, self-satisfied smirk.

He rolled his eyes. "Isn't it Mr Bates afternoon off?"

"Is it?" she asked, feigning innocence.

His eyebrows reached his hairline. "You're impossible, woman."

Her smirk turned into a full fledged grin. "I should go fetch my coat." Her arm brushed against his as she crossed the room, his ability to speak momentarily faltering at the surge of happiness and something entirely more distracting at her touch. "Would you like to have a nightcap with this impossible woman later?"

"It might be late."

"I won't turn into a pumpkin."

He tried and failed to stifle a laugh as she disappeared into the corridor.

/

"Mr Bates."

It was coming, the moment he had been anticipating with dread. He turned slowly, his cane clattering against tile. "Yes, Mrs Hughes."

"You're walking into the village, may I walk with you?" she asked nonchalantly, hoping to put him at ease.

Oh how he wanted to say no, but rudeness wasn't in his nature, at least not where she was concerned. "Of course." He removed her coat from its hook and helped her into it. "I have some errands to run for his Lordship."

"Perfect, then we can walk back together." Her friendly smile did anything but put him at ease.

He arched an eyebrow.

"What's the matter, Mr Bates? Anyone would think you were expecting an invitation to tea and conversation," she commented dryly as they stepped out into the courtyard.

"I half was," John admitted warily.

Elsie sighed, readjusting the basket over her arm. "I make it my business not to push people where they don't want to go."

"Thank you." He let out the deep breath that had been constricting his chest.

"Would you like to go for tea?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

John knew he should be mad but he always found he couldn't be mad at her. If anything she was his first real friend when he came to Downton, his champion even when things became tough. "That would be nice." He had, he decided walked right into that one. "Maybe we could discuss the weather."

"Maybe," she replied distractedly, her eyes focusing on the path ahead as they walked. "Or politics. Or books."

He laughed mildly, knowing full well that their conversation was going to be anything but so benign.

The tea room was busy in the middle of the afternoon, the tables occupied by young couples in love on their afternoon off and middle aged women indulging in afternoon tea. They took a table in the middle of the room, in full sight of everyone and for a second there was almost a hush.

"A pot of tea, Mr Bates?" she asked, her tone light and warm. "They have wonderful banana bread here."

He smiled, happy for the distraction. "A pot of tea for two and two slices of banana bread," he stated, ordering for them both. "Anything else?" His companion shook her head. "Thank you."

As the waitress walked away Elsie allowed her eyes to scan the room before turning back to her companion. "I'm so glad we had the opportunity to do this," she said with genuine warmth. "How are you doing?"

He pondered dismissing her concern with a perfunctory 'fine' but thought better of. "As well as can be expected," he offered a small shrug. "Taking a day at a time."

She nodded, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. "That works for me." Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of the looks they were getting and it was becoming increasingly annoying. Finally she turned and fixed one young woman with a stare that could shatter glass.

The woman held her eyes for a moment then turned away. The waitress appeared with their tray as John sighed deeply.

Elsie waited for the girl to leave before she turned to him, her eyes narrowed. "You can hold your head up high, Mr Bates, you are innocent. You have every right to be here."

He looked sceptical. "They have a point."

"Not really. And it's none of their business." She paused, contemplating what to say next. "If you repeat what I am about to say I'll put you on fish duty for a month. But it seems I have become very fond of you, and of Anna, and I want to see you happy, both of you, together. I'm going to make sure of it and nobody is going to get in the way of that. Except maybe yourself."

"If it were that easy," he groaned. There was nothing easy about their situation. It was getting harder by the day if anything.

"It is that easy. I cannot imagine what your life has been like," she started, her thoughts instantly drifting to the hundred scenarios she had been playing in her mind since his detention. "And I can't imagine I'm the person you'd want to share it with considering the fact that I helped put you there."

He shook his head, ducking his head to catch her eye, needing her to see the sincerity in his eyes. "You told the truth. You repeated what you heard. I would expect no less from you."

"It doesn't change the fact that you have been in hell. Now you are out. I would imagine life is a little different. Not least the lack of peace and privacy." She had planned to ask him how he was, if there was anything she could do, but in the face of his defeat she instead tried a different tack, coercing him to relax with her.

They were moving into uncomfortable ground.

"I think it is Anna who has suffered the most." At his hands, he didn't need to add. Dear sweet Anna who was more like the fierce housekeeper than he had imagined. They were both tenacious, sneaky for want of a better word, and both intent in getting him to talk.

Mrs Hughes smiled. "I have been there as much as I can, protected her when I deemed it necessary."

He arched an eyebrow.

"For all his gruffness Mr Carson is a good man. His intervention at my bequest was quite effective. Again, if you . . ." she trailed off at the look in his eyes.

He rose his hand, a lump forming in his throat at the generosity of the people around him. "Thank you." He didn't deserve them as his friends but he also didn't want to be without them.

"The rest, of course, is up to you. The people that know you will in time go back to treating you as they did before. Those that never liked you, probably won't change. Some will mutter in the background, others will try to provoke you." She paused to sip her tea. "Miss O'Brien is wary of how far she can challenge you, for now. But Thomas is a weasel and the person who needs to stand up to him is you." Mr Carson would reprimand her later when she told him of her afternoon but she knew how to handle him too.

He remained silent.

"Your tea is getting cold," she chided, breaking off a piece of bread. "And you should eat something."

/

John Bates was running late and he hated not to be punctual. Afternoon tea, while a little torturous had been maybe the last little shove he needed. The hallway was empty, noise drifting from the rooms on either side of him. He hesitated, debating turning back and heading to Downton.

"Mr Bates," came a strong Scottish voice from behind him.

He turned and nodded. "Doctor."

"Please come. My office is this way."

They walked the last few feet in silence, the door clicking shut behind them the only sound. As the doctor took his seat and indicated the chair opposite, John felt a familiar pang of panic.

"So you didn't say what was wrong when you called," the doctor stated, his notebook open on his desk, his body hunched over the desk.

John let out the deep hesitant breath he had been holding, realising that now he was there he had to actually verbalise the reason for his visit. "I have been having anxiety attacks," he offered quiet and succinctly.

Doctor Clarkson nodded, unsurprised by the admission. "When did they start?"

"In prison." For weeks he had tried to avoid using the phrase, trying to put that part of his life behind him, while it continued to tear him in two. As he allowed the words to spill from his lips he realised that he was still living in a prison, albeit one of his own making.

Richard made a series of notations in the notepad, his eyes never leaving the Valet's face. "What brings them on? Is there a specific trigger, or time of the day? Are they getting worse?"

John pursed his lips, allowing his thoughts to freely go to places he had been reluctant to go. "It's hard to . . ."

"Are you likely to have one now, in the middle of the afternoon?" Richard asked quickly, trying to initiate an immediate response.

"No," John said confidently. "Mostly at night. When I close the bedroom door. Sometimes noise related. . . ," he trailed off, rubbing his now damp palms together.

Richard Clarkson was no psychiatrist and wouldn't purport to be but he could have predicted the triggers for the episodes. "Are you having them more frequently now than when you were there?"

John nodded, taking a deep cleansing breath as he accepted that Anna was right - he needed to talk to someone. "I had one last evening at Supper. It was sudden and I still don't know why." As the words left his mouth, he found himself forming another sentence, another explanation, the attack dissected in detail, his body going cold, his eyes darting around the room in panic as he relived the incident. Part of him wanted to stop, to run but a deeper part of him felt the relief, the cathartic cleansing finally.

"I can give you some medication," the doctor offered when John finally trailed off from his monologue, dazed and a little shaken.

He shook his head vehemently.

"Maybe something to help you sleep?"

"I used to drink . . . A lot," he admitted, his head tilted forward.

"Okay. Then maybe we need to work at controlling them. Find the trigger and replace it with a happier memory."

"I need to be alone when they come on. Need to be somewhere safe. In the fresh air." It was harder than he imagined, opening himself up to someone other than Anna, admitting the man he had become.

"Have you spoken to his Lordship?" Richard asked, turning the page, giving himself time to contemplate the best course of treatment for his patient.

"I haven't." He could only imagine his Lordships reaction when he told him he had anxiety attacks brought on by the clattering of a soup terrain. First there would be pity, then he would be advise to take time off, personal time,which was the last thing he needed. The house, his work, the family, and Anna were the only things that mattered, that kept him from collapsing in a heap. He would be labelled unstable and then it would all be taken for him. Of course there would be reluctance because Robert Crawley was too good a man not to want to help, but eventually, well he would have to let him go. The scenario played out in his head as the doctor watched him carefully.

"Would you like me to speak to him?" Richard said quietly, finally breaking into his reverie when it looked like he might cry.

"No thank you," he retorted, almost snapping.

Richard leaned back in his chair finally, his decision made. "I can organise for you to speak to someone. Maybe in Ripon, but probably in York." It would cost money, especially for the type of specialist he had in mind, and Mr Bates didn't have that sort of money. He sighed audibly then remembered Isobel and her need to immerse herself in charitable, needy causes. A smile ghosted over his lips. She would know of a charity, a source of money that the Valet would qualify for. "You would need to see him on every half day for probably six months, then maybe off and on when things get bad."

"I have a little money from my mothers estate," John said proudly, his skin around his eyes crinkling as his mouth set in a grim smile. "If you think it will help."

"I do," Richard acknowledged, nodding slightly. "But you would have to tell him everything."

John bristled at the prospect.

"It will be a challenge at first and probably more uncomfortable than you have ever been. Someone delving into everything you have tried hard to forget but I have seen results, with the army. If you are willing to give it a go I can try and organise it for next week."

He wanted to say no, to beg for another way to end his nightmare but then an image of her drifted into his consciousness, her eyes gazing up at him helplessly, her voice quietly begging him to let her help and he knew it was the only way. His mouth still felt dry as he formed the word. "Yes."


	7. Chapter 7

Authors Notes: I had planned to finish and post this weeks ago but real life sucked the fun out of writing for a while. And then I couldn't quite get the tone right. I'm starting to find my muse again and hopefully have done this justice. There will be a short epilogue to finish in the next day or so.

Thank you for the kind comments and alerts. I promise to write more consistently in the future.

**Part Seven**

John climbed out of the bus and closed the door with an almost gentle thud. As the bus rumbled away he crossed the road and headed along his usual route towards the big house. His gait was slower than normal, his body physically and emotionally drained from his afternoon in York, his mind spinning from everything he had learned. For the past eight weeks he had been taking the same journey, his half day spent in the offices of the respectable Mr Raynor, his inner most thoughts delved into and analysed. After months in prison, living in his own personal hell, he hadn't expected to ever experience anything so disquieting again but his sessions on the psychiatrists couch had delved so far into his soul that he had at times felt violated. He had always been a private, thoughtful man, hiding behind a mask but lately he had realised that would bring him a lifetime of unhappiness and loneliness. Reluctantly, and often times unsuccessfully, he had begun the slow, tortuous process of sharing a little of himself with the people around him. In turn the sessions, for the most part, had become easier, expect on this one occasion they had focused on the one person who was at the heart of his pain.

He started mildly as he caught sight of her on the path, a basket swinging on her arm, a smile tweaking at her lips as she saw him. Lost in his own thoughts he was surprised, although he knew he shouldn't be, Anna was probably more aware of his routines and moods than he was himself.

"Anna?" His footsteps crunched on the gravel as he closed the distance between them. He had hoped for a few minutes more to compose himself before he had to face her, time to consider how much to tell her but it was not to be.

"I was at the cottage," she said simply, as if that explained everything. It was a little bit of a lie. She had been at the cottage hanging curtains and pulling weeds but for the last hour she had been sitting waiting for him. There was always a little trepidation about his return, she never knew what to expect; would he be relaxed, uptight, angry, or would he be willing to talk, and allow her to discover a little more about the man she married.

John arched an eyebrow sceptically. For all her innocence, his wife was a dreadful liar. "Would you like me to walk you back?" he asked tenderly, extending his arm and waiting for her to take it.

They walked in companionable silence along the winding road, each lost in their own thoughts until they reached the gateway to the estate. As they took the path that would take them to the rear of the house, he glanced down at his wife, frowning as he caught sight of her nibbling her lip. "Is everything alright, Anna?"

"Yes."

"Good." He returned to concentrating on the path, waiting for her to pluck up the courage to say whatever was on her mind.

The house was almost in view, the trees giving way to the sweeping lawns when Anna decided it was now or never. If she left it too late they would be trying to have an intimate conversation in hushed tones at the dinner table or sitting up till dawn under the oak tree. Neither was appealing. "How did it go?" she asked quietly, not wanting to force the issue, hoping instead that he would open up.

John turned to smile shyly at her. "We are apparently making progress."

She arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I haven't had an attack in nearly a fortnight, my dearest."

Her smile widened, relief etched in her features. "Progress indeed." She waited for him to elaborate, hoping he would share more of his visit.

"Do you want to sit for a while and talk?" he asked, coming to a halt, his eyes darting towards the house and back at the path they had walked, conscious that they were alone and expected at the house sooner rather than later.

"I'd like that." Anna waited as he lay his jacket on the grass and settled himself before she sat beside him. His hand automatically sought hers, bringing their entwined hands to rest in his lap.

"We talked a lot about you today. About when we met, and the wedding and . . .," he trailed off, catching his breath, dispelling the painful reminders of his session. "The visits to the prison. I don't think I've ever told you how much I needed you. How you kept me going." He felt the gentle squeeze of her fingers against his in reassurance, or understanding, or some thing else, and he didn't want to stop. As they sat in the warm afternoon sun, hand in hand, he found himself making a declaration, or something close to it, of his feelings. Words he often found hard to say, came easy. He focused on the blades of grass beneath his fingers, his eyes downward rather than on the woman he loved, and the words continued to flow. One day he would gaze unwaveringly into her eyes, but for now all that mattered was that he was sharing his feelings with her.

-/

John felt somewhat guilty that he was there, alone, but he had needed to get away from the house, from the Earl of Grantham, from everything that had become such a large part of his life. For fourteen months he had spent more than twenty hours a day in his cell, barely seeing daylight, Anna's visit once a fortnight his only saving grace. Today however he had felt more claustrophobic than he had ever felt in that grey place. He had followed Mr Raynor's advice, taking the opportunity to inform the Earl of his situation, offering an honest and frank account of his life after prison. The response had been everything he had predicted and more; kindness, a little pity, empathy and a willingness to help him through it. It had overwhelmed him and he had run, fleeing the house, then the grounds until he found himself standing at the gate to the cottage.

Unlocking the door and latching it behind him he had found himself pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room until he had finally climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Carefully he removed his shoes and placed them beside the bed before laying on the soft woollen blanket. As he lay there, his eyes exploring the room, he realised how much of them, of Anna, was already imprinted on it. The curtains and sheets were no longer mismatched, the result of Anna's handiwork, their personal belongings carefully placed around the room. A small gilt frame sat on the end table beside his bed, her picture smiling back at him. On hers he noted were a small bundle of letters, written while they were apart. Their life was simple but it was enough, more than enough for a man who just a few years a go had nothing.

As he lay there, cocooned in the security of his own house he felt his breathing return to normal, his body relaxing. Seconds later his emotions overwhelmed him, the tears once they started would not stop and he gave in to them.

He heard the latch click and he knew instantly that she had come after him. It should have surprised him that she had found him so soon, but in a family there were no secrets, and it would have taken only minutes for someone to seek her out and tell her he had left.

Her footfalls fell lightly on the treads as she climbed the stairs the same way he had barely ten minutes before, a soft swish following in her wake as her skirt brushed the walls of the narrow stairwell.

As much as John wanted to be alone, to gather himself in the wake of his realisation, a part of him needed her too. Intently he brushed at the tears with the pads of his thumb, refusing to have her pity him.

"John?" she said earnestly, appearing in the doorway, her features etched with concern. "Mrs Hughes said she had seen you leaving the house."

There was his answer. The housekeeper had shown him kindness in his early days at Downton, later becoming his friend. It seemed that whenever something terrible happened she was there, offering her support, encouraging him with Anna. She was also there for the good things, how few there were. When they had crossed on that stairs he had told her he was fine, that he needed some air, obviously she had gone straight to Anna. As always she had done the right thing.

"You've been crying." she said as a statement more than a question. "What happened?"

John held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.

There was a moments hesitation before she entwined her fingers with his and gently lowered herself onto the mattress beside him. "Please tell me what's wrong."

Tired of trying to hold his feelings in check, of holding tears at bay, he let them flow, caressing his cheeks. Her arms were around him in seconds, her palm gently brushing away his tears until he began to sob and then she pulled him to her, his head cradled to her shoulder. "Ssh," she whispered, desperately wanting to tell him it would be alright, but she couldn't promise that. The only thing she could do was tell him the truth. "I'm here, I'll always be here. For better or worse, richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, I will be here." She held him for the longest time until the tears finally subsided and he pulled back from her.

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

"You think this will change the way I feel about you?" she asked quietly, "because nothing will."

He kissed her nose.

"Sometimes you can be an silly beggar, my silly beggar, but still."

"I don't want to ever leave here," he said simply, surprising himself in his clarity of thought.

Anna looked perplexed, having expected him to brush off her concerns or a offer false reassurance. "I like the idea, I mean I love the cottage but . . ."

John shook his head, wanting to make her understand. "Downton, Anna. I don't us to ever leave."

"Then we won't." It was that simple. She had lived at Downton since she was sixteen, excelling at a job she loved, finding a family she could belong to and meeting the man she loved. It would, she had always hoped, be the place they could raise their own family in. Knowing that he wanted it as much as she did only made her love him even more. Releasing him from her arms momentarily, she rose to her feet and removed her boots. Laying her dress over the chair she climbed back on the bed beside him, her arms instantly wrapping themselves back around him. "As long as we're together, that's all that matters, John."

John let out a deep contented sigh as he held her against his chest, his tears forgotten for a moment as he held his wife. "Won't you be missed?" he asked quietly after a few minutes. As much as he needed some distance between him and the house for a while, he didn't imagine it would go down well that they were both missing.

"I need to be back in time to dress Lady Edith otherwise I think Mrs Hughes will cover for me." She lifted her head from his chest to look at him. "Would you like me to get you something? Some water perhaps?"

"Maybe in a bit. Stay with me for a while."

They lay in contented silence, wrapped in the warm cocoon of each others love, the outside world forgotten, his hands lazily caressing her back, the curve of her bottom, his body reacting to the feel of her in his arms. "Anna," he whispered against her hair, the tenderness of her name on his lips causing her to lift her head and smile at him.

John lowered his head and brushed her lips with his own, gently at first, pulling back to look her in the eyes, before he kissed her again, deepening the kiss as he felt her respond. His hand made its way to her hair, toying lightly with the pins, before her hand covered his and seconds later her hair tumbled across her shoulders.

"You are so beautiful."

The blush tinged her cheeks.

The kisses became more passionate, punctuated with endearments whispered against her hair. He loved her and in that moment he didn't believe he could love her any more. The tears had proved to be cathartic, he was beginning to see things as they were. It would take time and he was certain the anxiety would return but in that moment the pressure had been lifted. His fingers lightly brushed her side, stroking the swell of her breast, her satin covered waist, edging towards the hem of her corset.

"John?" she asked breathlessly, unsure of where they were heading.

"I think we should lose this," he whispered, his lips against her ear, his fingers tugging at the fastenings. "And definitely this." His fingers scrunched at the satin of her slip.

Anna mumbled something incoherent as he continued to kiss his way from her ear, along the line of her jaw and down her neck, his hands removing the final layers of her clothing. She wriggled beneath him as cold air blew across her naked body and his hands stilled. The sound of the bed creaking, the unfastening of his pants, the loss of the sensation of his lips on her skin brought forth a protest from her lips. Then she felt his bare skin against her own, his mouth covering hers, his knee nudging hers aside.

"Anna, I love you," he breathed between kisses.

Her fingers moved to the nape of his neck, toying with his hair as she hooked one foot around his leg, trying to bring him closer.

The last thing he had been thinking of, when he ran from the house, was making love to Anna, but as she writhed on the bed, her tongue teasing its way into her mouth, it was all he could think about. A gentle nod of her head, a silent offering of permission was enough to rid him of any hesitation. Gently he shifted position, easing himself into her, stilling himself as she adjusted to the feel of him within her. Then his eyes found hers and he began to move, slowly at first, then quicker and deeper, urged on by the moans she elicited. They became lost in each other, the cold of the room replaced by the warmth of their bodies moving together, urged on by sounds and touch alone, until they reached a climax that had him crying her name. **  
**

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked sometime later, as they lay wrapped around each other, his hand gently stroking her hair.

His fingers stilled as his eyes met hers.

"Was it another attack?"

John let out a deep sigh and reached for the blankets, tugging them over their naked bodies. "No, it wasn't an attack. I finally told his Lordship everything. The way Mr Raynor suggested."

"How did he react?"

He arched an eyebrow and she pursed her lips tightly together, falling silent.

"He listened and told me that I had a job here for as long as I wanted. That I should take whatever time I needed," he offered candidly. "It was just too much. He has never questioned my innocence or asked me for anything and I couldn't look him in the eye. I just needed to get out of there."

Anna furrowed her brow, her hand gently stroking his arm.

"I wasn't planning to come here, it just happened." John slid his hand to cup her face. "And then this. You. We're going to be alright, Anna."

Her lips quirked upwards into a radiant smile. "I never doubted that. You just needed some time."

"You were that sure?" he asked, a little incredulously.

"Yes," she replied with confidence. While she may have wondered how long it would take for him to really come back to her, longed for the happiness they deserved, she had always known in her heart that they would come through it together and stronger. "The only thing I wasn't certain of was how many children we would have," she offered conspiratorially, a smile in her tone, determined not to spoil the afternoon with heavy conversations.

"At least two."

"Really, then don't you think . . ." The remainder of her thoughts were lost as his lips met hers once more, his body indicating that their minds were of one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to everyone who had read and commented. Apologies for not replying but I do appreciate every one. This is the final chapter and has a much lighter tone. Enjoy.**

**A Period Of Adjustment**

Epilogue

"This is ridiculous," Anna groaned, rolling over onto her back and rubbing her hand over her face. Mornings had never been her strong suit and the fact she was having to get up even earlier than normal was not helping the situation.

"What? Getting up at four every morning so you can be back in your room before Daisy comes to wake you?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. While his wife was beautiful and loving most of the time, she was more cranky than affectionate before dawn, which in turn tended to dampen his mood too.

She sat up slowly, the sheet slipping from her body, before twisting and gingerly putting a foot on the cold floor boards, shivering involuntarily as the breeze from the open window brushed her bare skin. "No. The fact we're married and sleeping in separate bedrooms." Anna gathered her clothes, oblivious to the effect her ministrations were having on her husband.

John stifled a lustful growl as she bent over again and he got an ample view of her pert bottom. He covered his eyes with his hand, focusing on her words rather than her naked form as she dressed in the early morning light. He was less than successful.

"The fact we have to pretend at all. I feel like I'm committing some ungodly sin every time I sneak in here," she grumbled, her back to him as she fastened the back of her dress.

It was no good, he had gone from annoyed at her, to lusting after her, to wanting more than anything to make her happy. Which as he lay there, watching her dress, he realised was exactly what his role in life should be, what he had promised when he had been released. "Then why don't we just move to the cottage," he sighed, his apprehension, he hoped, not evident in his voice or across his features.

Her hands stilled as she turned to look at him, startled by his suggestion. "Really?" As much as she had been waiting for this moment she sensed the hesitation in his voice. The last thing he needed was to be forced into something he wasn't ready for; it had taken him almost two years to admit he liked her, let alone another two to kiss her. She was beginning to think it would be another two before they actually lived together.

John nodded, retrieving his underpants from the floor and slipping them on. "I need a proper nights sleep. No, we can still do that," he assured her with a grin at the look of disappointment on her face. "I'm pretty sure I had a conversation with his Lordship about onions yesterday. In fact I'm pretty convinced it lasted a good five minutes." Pulling on his trousers he rounded the bed to stand beside her. "If I don't have six hours, at least once a week, I'm going to end up having some very awkward conversations. Here we go to bed at midnight and you end up sneaking out before dawn. In our own home we could sleep till six, maybe six thirty on Sunday."

"Are you sure?"

His fingers brushed the bare skin of her back as he pushed her hands away and continued to fasten her dress, his eyes gazing into hers, raising the temperature in the room, as he did so.

"I wouldn't have suggested it unless I was, Anna." While the thought terrified him in many ways, the prospect of not sleeping with his wife every night depressed him more. He was getting used to falling asleep with her hair tousled against his shoulder and waking with her bare limbs wrapped around him. Far from feeling suffocated or claustrophobic her presence in his bed made him feel freer than he had in all the years he had loved her. For a few brief hours each night they were together, permitted to love and be loved. "And I might even be able to look Mr Carson in the eye again," he commented with a smirk.

As if on cue the sound of coughing, deep and dry, echoed from the room next door and they both glanced at the thin wall that separated the two rooms. Anna frowned and made a mental note to mention the cough to Mrs Hughes. It didn't sound in the least bit healthy and the older woman would know exactly what to do, nipping it in the bud, thus preventing it getting any worse. The moment of embarrassment would soon be forgotten, or at least she hoped it would.

"I don't think he objects to us sharing a room," she commented dryly, turning back to lock eyes with her husband.

"I don't think he needs to wake up to a dawn chorus of your ecstasy, either." John grinned mischievously as he grabbed her waist and stole a kiss.

She blushed crimson at his implication, lowering her gaze.

John reluctantly released her, aware that time was against them. "If you're ready for this, I'll speak to his Lordship today."

"More than ready," she replied with confidence, gazing up at him bewitchingly through her long lashes. "But we'll need to tell Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes too." They were the closest thing either of them had to family now and had been more than supportive over the three months since his release. It seemed only right that they should inform them first.

"Can we not mention that we are fed up with sneaking out of our rooms in the middle of the night. I'm sure they are both more than aware of the fact but can we not draw attention to it. I have visions of Mr Carson sitting me down and discussing appropriate behaviour."**  
**  
So much for telling Mrs Hughes about Mr Carson, she thought, dispelling the thought almost immediately. "This evening, then?"

"Yes," he agreed readily. "Before the dinner gong." He reached out his hand, grabbing her, both of them falling back onto the bed in a heap.

She squealed in surprise and he covered her mouth with his own to silence her, the kiss deepening as her lips parted, granting his tongue entry.

"I have to go," she whispered as they broke for air minutes later and his grip on her loosened.

"I know," he whispered, helping her up and off the bed. As he watched her smooth down her dress and check her appearance in the mirror, there was a moment of insecurity. He considered ignoring it, pretending that everything was fine but they had come too far for lies. More than that he wanted to be honest and open with her; it was the only way they could ever truly put the past behind them.

As she crossed the room, her hand on the door handle, his voice stopped her. "You realise that there may be nights I can't sleep, nights I wake up . . ."

"Yes. But it's been a week, John, and we've spent every night in your bed and you haven't had an episode." She gave him a smile, one that reached her eyes and quelled his fears. "But if there are nights, bad nights, we'll get through them. Maybe that's all you needed. Me."

John shook his head, his smile matching hers. "I love you, you know." Sometimes she knew exactly what to say, understanding his concerns better than he did, her sincerity a welcome relief.

"In fact I do." She blew him a kiss, slipping out into the corridor before she changed her mind about leaving.

Her parting comment brought a smile to his face, a certainty that he was doing something right, and a renewed hope for their future. He let out a sigh and stretched languidly out on the bed, exhausted but contented.

/

The sound of voices, small snatches of conversation and laughter, drifted down the corridor from the servants hall as John took Anna's hand and guided her down the stairs towards the housekeeper's sitting room.

"Are you sure?" she asked for what seemed like the tenth time in the last hour, still slightly disbelieving at how quickly he had come around. "We can wait. I can wait."

"Anyone would think you don't want to live with me," he mock grumbled, squeezing her hand gently. For the last three months he had been dreading the prospect of living alone with his wife but in the end it had taken a five minute conversation for them to make the second most important decision of their lives. As it turned out that was the easy part, now they had to tell everyone else and he was feeling slight trepidation at the conversation ahead.

Anna tugged at his hand, encouraging him less than gently to look at her. "The chance to have my wicked way with you every night and every morning. Oh I want to live with you."

"Every night and morning?" he asked, grinning, his eyebrow arching mischievously.

She nodded, licking her lips to assert her intention. Now that she had him home, now that they were going to start married life properly she had decided it was time to start on the family they had talked about.

Oh god, he thought, she will be the death of me, although it probably wouldn't be the worst way to go he acknowledged. Releasing her hand, and stepping slightly away from her, he knocked firmly on the door to the small sitting room.

"Come," came the familiar Scottish brogue.

He opened the door, allowing his wife to step over the threshold first, closing the door behind him before standing behind and off to one side of her.

"Mr Bates, Anna, you're back." Mrs Hughes exclaimed, giving them a wide smile. "Did you get everything done that you needed to?" She should feel a little guilty she knew about the little white lie they had concocted to allow the couple an extra few hours to themselves, but she didn't. Since he had run from the house the previous week, the two of them seemed to have reached an understanding. They appeared more relaxed and happier, which in turn had improved the mood below stairs, and she was all for encouraging that.

"Just in time for the dressing gong," Mr Carson added, his tone as always professional, revealing little as to his thoughts on the matter. He rose steadily to his feet, palms flat on the table as he reached his full height.**  
**  
The Butlers presence, if anything, made things simpler, removing the need for two separate, and embarrassing conversations. "Can we have a moment, please?" John asked, fixing a small smile on his face and taking a step closer to his wife, protectively placing one hand on her back.

"Did you want me to leave?"

John shook his head. "No, Mr Carson, we would like to speak to both of you, if you have the time."

The two of them exchanged nervous glances before Mr Carson settled himself back on the chair and stated, "We have a few minutes."  
**  
**John took Anna's hand in his, smiling as he did so. "A lot has happened in the last few weeks and I'm aware it has caused some interruption. I'd like to apologise for that, to hopefully set your minds at rest that it won't happen again." He couldn't promise that but the signs were looking good that he now had control over his emotions. He took a deep breath. "We have decided, in light of everything, that it's time we moved into the cottage. We both feel that it's time to start looking to the future."

Mrs Hughes smiled at them both fondly. "Well it's about time." She glanced at the Butler, watching for his reaction, hoping he would be equally happy about the turn of events.

Mr Carson lowered his head, thoughtful for a few minutes, his paternal feelings towards Anna at odds with his professional character. "Have you spoken to his Lordship?"

Anna glanced up at her husband, only too aware how difficult it was for John to have a personal conversation with his master.

"Yes, this morning. I explained that we had discussed the future and decided it was time, and he gave his permission." The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, his Lordship in fine form about the virtues of being a good husband. John had briefly zoned out for a minute or two, wondering whether her Ladyship would have something to say on the subject of a good husband but thought better of it. In the end it had proved merely a formality, the Earl offering his congratulations and a shake of his hand.

"It will mean less sleep for both of you," Mr Carson acknowledged, his mind instantly moving to the practicalities of them living in the cottage, their daily walk back and forth to work, the extra hour added to their day.

Anna stifled a giggle, glancing sideways at her husband, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

A slow red hue covered Mrs Hughes cheeks as she realised the implication. Charles, she knew, would be oblivious. Clearing her throat, she asked, "When would you like to move your things?"

"As soon as possible, if we make it work for everyone and not cause any inconvenience to the household," John replied, finally lifting his head. "We can pack before bed tonight and while his Lordship is in York tomorrow I'll take our belongings over."

Charles Carson nodded, acknowledging that everything was to his satisfaction."Very well. You should both be running along. Don't keep Lady Edith and his Lordship waiting. I shall ring the gong shortly."

They bobbed their heads in unison and disappeared out of the door, grins widening as they found themselves in the empty hallway.

"It's done," John said, relief in his tone. "Till later." With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he left her, scurrying to the stairs and back to work.

"I hope this doesn't change things," Charles said almost wistfully, watching their retreating backs. "We finally have everything running smoothly. And they both seem happy at last."

"It won't for a while, probably eight months, maybe nine," Elsie offered with a smile, reaching across the table, unable to resist the urge to pat his hand. "Then all our lives are going to change." For the better she wanted to add.

He looked at her blankly and she rolled her eyes. "Lady Mary won't be the only one having a baby, you just wait and see." Her grin widened at the look of realisation on his face. "It's going to be alright," she commented reassuringly, as he continued to sit, a myriad of emotion fleeting across his face. Lightly, she patted his hand and he finally met her gaze, a small smile on his lips.**  
**

"It's getting on, I should ring the gong," he said, finally remembering the time.

"Yes. And when everyone had gone to bed we can have some tea and talk about it." She rose to her feet. "And I'll give you some medicine for that cough."

The End


End file.
